Remeber
by Psycho Chloe
Summary: Trajedy befalls the Hardy Boyz and Lita, and this is the story of the way Matt Hardy coped with it. *CAUTION: Death, violence and suicide*


I desperately need feedback yall, so pleez, help a friend in need. I don't own any of the names.  
  
  
  
I remember. I remember the look of sheer happiness when she won the WWF Women's Championship from Stephanie McMahon. I remember the blank, pale look on her face when the heart-rate monitor beeped for the last time. It was the perfect match. Everything was in place. She climbed up to the top rope and gave her final Hardyz Gunz. She had done it so many times before, why did she screw up? The images of her, taking a flying leap off of the top rope and almost making the full back flip, but she couldn't, she didn't, and all of her weight came crashing down, crushing her neck. I remember seeing her whole body fall on top of her and then bounce back up to make herself lay flat. She lay there motionless, not a breath from her lips, not a movement from her fingers. Terror struck me like a white-hot bullet to the heart. Immediately, Jeff jumped over the top rope to make sure she was ok. My head was spinning, my vision was blurred by the tears that were forcing their way out of my eyes. I slid into the ring and shoved away those who were trying to help her. I bent down and picked up her limp hand. I held it to my chest, hoping that it was nothing serious, but I knew it was. Tears falling from my eyes, I called her name, waiting for a response. My heart wrenched with pain as the EMTs rushed to the ring with a stretcher. They pulled me away and held me back, but I pushed my way through. I screamed out her name and then ran up, holding her hand as they brought her up the entrance ramp. The haunting images flashed before me. There were nights where I'd wake up, sweat dripping from my face, the nightmaric episode haunting me, reminding me. I remember sleeping in a chair in the hospital by her bedside, holding her hand. I'd have dreams of her, blinking her eyes open and saying, "Don't worry, Matt, I'm fine!" But when I'd wake up, nothing. She'd be laying there, barley being able to breath by herself. They forced me to go home and rest, but I couldn't take it. I ran all the way back to the hospital, to make sure she was ok. I ran in, barley being able to feel my feet. I ran over to her bedside and took her hand. I pressed her hand against my face and fell to my knees and prayed that she'd wake up. I yelled out, "Wake up, Amy! Please wake up!" I took a ring from my pocket and slipped it on her lifeless finger," See Ames, were gonna get married and have little baby Amies! Please wake up! Please!" I stood up and looked down at her face. I kissed her hand and held it against me. I whispered her name. I kissed her lips for the final time and brushed her hair away from her face. I kept speaking to her, my words becoming mumbles, my eyes becoming blurred by the tears. The heart-rate monitor began beeping faster. She squeezed my hand and with the other gave a very weak Hardyz Gunz. I was breathless. I looked at her face, and her barley whispered "I Love You" to me before she relaxed again. The heart- rate monitor beeping slower and slower. Her hand went cold. Her breath died down and the came to a halt. The heart-rate monitor finally stopped, and the long beep of death rang through the room. I yelled. I cried out, tears streaming down my face. I dropped to my knees and held her hand in mine. I covered my face with my hands and sobbed. I cursed at God in between sobs yelling and screaming, hoping that she'll come back, but nothing. Dead silence, the only sound was that of the murderous beep from the heart-rate monitor. The doctor and 2 male nurses came in. The doctor ran over to see Amy. The 2 male nurses held me back as he checked.  
  
"She's dead." He announced.  
  
"I know! Come back, Ames! Come back!" I yelled. I broke down crying. They shot me up with drugs to make me calm down, but nothing would hold me back.  
  
"Get the fuck away!" I yelled at the nurses. I tried to break free, but they were too strong. Jeff came into the room. I fell at his feet sobbing, "She's gone, Jeff, she's gone." He picked me up and helped me to my feet.  
  
I didn't sleep that night, I cried all night, thinking of her. Thinking of her face, her smile. The way she was always happy. The way she'd make the crowd cheer when she went out to the ring. Remembering. Now I sit on the ring post before the show starts, remembering the match, remembering the moonsault, remembering her. I'd see her ghost standing there, telling me to move on, but how could I? She was my life, she was my love, she was me, and now she was gone. I'd see her ghost in the ring, calling my name, and when I'd go to touch her, she'd be gone. Sometimes I'd wake up and roll over to see her face, but she wasn't there. It was a sickness, a virus, which was killing me inside. I couldn't take it. The night of RAW, before the crowd got there, I took my gun to the ring. I pressed the cold steel tip to my lips, and before I went, I thought of her, I thought of the night, I remembered the match, the moonsault, I remembered her, and then, I joined her... 


End file.
